A very aerobic freedom of expression

“Ecstatic dance? What is that, some kind of stripping?” my friend Helen Oxenberg asked me.

“No, that would be exotic dance,” I say, although her confusion is understandable. Judging from the way some people dance on top of one another at ecstatic dance classes, she might not be the only one confused.

Much like yoga, ecstatic dance is actually a rhythmic moving meditation that stems from the sacred spiritual traditions of a variety of cultures, ranging from shamanism and African tribal dance to Middle Eastern Sufi and classical Indian dancing.

Never have I seen such freedom of expression through movement as I did while ecstatic dancing, also called trance dancing and Zen dancing. And rarely have I sweat so much. The term “sweat your prayers,” sometimes used to describe it, seems particularly apt.

For some time, I’ve noticed ecstatic dance classes advertised at yoga studios, and my curiosity was piqued. I love to dance and I’m always up for something new, especially if it gets me in shape without feeling like drudgery. I also find the spiritual dimension of yoga uplifting, and ecstatic dance seemed philosophically in sync with that.

Still, I wasn’t quite sure what I was getting into, and my first class, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, initially struck me as a cross between a Grateful Dead concert, a group meditation and an insane asylum. Trust me, this all-inclusive, drug-free rave-cum-movement therapy session is no place for the narrow-minded.

But if you’re willing to go with the flow, you can have a great time at this rollicking, frolicsome party prayer. By the end, I was overcome by a profound feeling of liberation and joy.

The class, run by Jo Cobbett and Michael Skelton, was held Sunday afternoon in a fencing center in Culver City, although it is scheduled to move to a space called Habitat in Marina del Rey in late December.

The eclectic group of about 40 people was equally split between men and women, and ranged in age from teens to people in their 70s. Some wore workout clothes, others looked as if they had just walked in off the street. An earlier session that starts at 11 a.m. tends to draw more than 100 people, and because this is L.A., says Cobbett, “we get everyone here.” Anything goes, including men in skirts.

The first hour of this 2 1/2-hour class is entirely free-form, so you probably won’t know who the teacher is right away. If that sounds intimidating, and you’re someone who prefers to be led, Shiva Rea offers more structured classes that combine yoga and trance dance at Sacred Movement Yoga in Venice.

For me, as soon as I noticed that everyone was dancing in their own private world, I felt perfectly safe jumping in. Nobody knew me, so any hint of self-consciousness melted away as soon as I started to move.

The music, which ranged from Asian fusion to hip-hop, began slowly. I rocked my hips side-to-side, rolling my neck to loosen it up. Two guys with shaved heads who could have passed for Buddhist monks spent the entire class moving at a slow-motion pace, much like tai chi.

Early on, my hands swayed in the shape of an infinity sign as my shoulders rolled in circles. It was movement without thought, and I focused on my breath. Soon I was joined by an elderly man named Jim, who played a fiddle on the sidelines when he wasn’t dancing. Sporting a long white beard and rainbow tie-dyed pants, he mirrored my movements, dancing with me without ever touching my hands.

At first, this scared me a little. When I realized he wasn’t going to unduly invade my space, though, I got into it. Neither of us leading, we anticipated each other’s movements and merged into one fluid energetic force.

As the music grew faster and more frenzied, people began to lose themselves. Some flailed wildly in their own space, while others danced with partners. Everyone seemed to work him or herself into a trance-like state of abandon.

Rarely do you find a place where you’re free to just shake it, stomp it and sweat it all out, to be as creative as you want. I felt myself letting go.

“No one was concerned about how gracefully or skillfully anyone danced,” says Dr. David Saperia, a neurologist at USC who has been attending the FTE class for six years. “It wasn’t about how you looked; it was about your movement being a spontaneous and authentic expression of your inner state.”

For some, it was an occasion for therapeutic emotional release. Midway though class, one woman began writhing erratically on the floor, kicking her legs and crying out in pain. Granted, in any other context, this behavior would seem bizarre. At Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, she was just one more tile in the wacky mosaic. No one approached her, no one seemed fazed.

“Everything is stored in the body, all emotion and experience,” says Cobbett. “When you move your body, things get triggered.”

An hour into class, Cobbett began guiding our movement. Working with the concept of boundaries, she had us choose partners and told us to embody the concepts of “no” and “yes” in our dance. During the “no” dance, people looked aggressive, keeping their partners at arm’s length. During the “yes” portion, some people intertwined their bodies suggestively.

Be forewarned: This class can feel a bit like a pickup scene. Cobbett says there have been three weddings among class members in the last six months. On one occasion, a man approached me when I felt like dancing in solitude, but it was easy to communicate that message with body language, and I found everyone respected my space.

Micheline Berry’s Zen Dancing class at Sacred Movement Yoga had a different feel. Although wildly free in movement, this yoga crowd seemed more self-contained, leading to a more individual movement reverie for me. Berry describes Zen dancing as a ritual, and she began with an invocation, setting the intention right away. “This is how we pray,” she says in an ethereal voice. “What are you here to dance for?”

Held at night, candles lighted the room and many women wore elaborate belly-dancing outfits or flowing skirts. One 4-year-old girl danced with her mom. With live world music, I gravitated toward the drummer, jumping around faster and faster, sweat flying as the spirit overtook my body.

At the end of the two-hour evening, I collapsed in cathartic surrender, silent tears streaming down my face. We finished with a soothing meditation and I walked out feeling peaceful and glowing.

Because the level of physical exertion is self-determined, ecstatic dance is appropriate for people of all fitness levels. Lyena Strelkoff, 34, continues to dance with Fumbling Towards Ecstasy despite being paralyzed from the waist down after a fall while hiking last year.

Strelkoff often wheels onto the floor, picks a spot and moves her upper body. Or she slides out of her wheelchair and dances while lying on the floor. “I don’t know how to live my life without movement,” she says. “And to have a place where I’m free to do that

No matter what your physical limitations, pace yourself and don’t overdo it. My neck and ankle were sore from all the thrashing.

“It’s incredibly cardiovascular, and it’s more difficult than any yoga class,” says Rea. “People take a nap before they come.”

But to experience that kind of intensity from a place of devotion, rather than a place of punishment, “just feels different,” says Rea. “I’ll be in my bed afterward and feel like my whole body is light, open and free.”

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Where to go: Ecstatic dance

Classes usually range from $10 to 15 per session.

Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, Culver City, www.movinground.com

or (310) 821-8022.

Zen Dancing, Los Angeles,

www.zendancing.com or www.centerforyoga.com

or (323) 464-1276.

Yoga Trance Dance, Venice, www.shivarea.com or

www.sacredmovement.com

or (310) 450-7676.